Mom vs. the Washing Machine

Back in October when I visited my mom, her friend was gracious enough to let me and my boyfriend stay at her condo in Rochester Hills. The place was nice–two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a nice kitchen and living room. There was also a washer and dryer that Jason and I were eager to use because we were going to be away from Seattle for a few weeks and would obviously need to wash our clothes at some point.

During the middle of our stay we decided to fire up the washing machine to clean some of our sweaty exercise apparel. Jas loaded up the machine, added some soap, adjusted the settings, and closed the hall closet doors to muffle the sound of the machine in action. He then returned to his laptop to get a little bit of work done. I was also glued to my laptop while my mom puttered around in the kitchen getting things ready for dinner.

And then:

Mom: “Wahhhhhhh! My gahhhh!! Oh my gahhhhh!!!”

Jas and I ran out of the bedroom to see what the hell my little Korean mom was hollering about and quickly determined the culprit: soap was leaking out from under the hall closet door. It was clearly coming from the washing machine, so we all scrambled to grab some towels and mop up the mess.

My mother being dwarfed by my boyfriend as they both try to solve the Mystery of the Leaking Washing Machine

Jason, to me: “I don’t know what she’s saying, but I get the impression she’s blaming me for the leaking washing machine.”

Me: “Welcome to my entire childhood.” I can’t tell you how many conversations I overheard between my mom and one of her Korean friends that consisted of “Blah blah blah…Re-bec-CAAAA [glares in my direction as if to say "Yeah, you know I'm talking shit about you but you don't understand Korean so suck it"] …blah blah blah blah…”

It turns out that there was too much soap in the washing machine…sort of. Even though Jas used a standard amount, the washing machine was an eco-friendly, low energy model that used less water and required far less soap than typical (about 1/4 less). Mom’s friend solved the mystery for us. Technically it wasn’t Jason’s fault, although I’m not convinced Mom doesn’t feel that way.

We re-ran the load and used substantially less soap for future loads. Mom, meanwhile, spent the rest of the afternoon like this:

A repeat incident? Not on her watch!

Yes, she actually babysat our clothes and kept a watchful eye on the washing machine to make sure it wouldn’t regurgitate more soap, all while blaming my boyfriend for mismeasuring the Tide.